Swing Kids
by LeDerpSisters
Summary: He glanced downwards at Arthur's waistcoat and jacket combination. "What's a city slicker like yourself doing back here? Ain't a dead hoofer, are you? Care for a spin with me, darlin?" Arthur was thrown. "You do realise I didn't understand a single word you just said?" The man just laughed and pulled Arthur out of his chair and towards the busy dance floor.


Arthur scowled as he was pulled through the frosty, New York air by an overly excited French man talking at a mile a minute with his infuriating accent. Dilapidated buildings loomed around them, the images of beautiful women and stern, strong soldiers painted across their surfaces promoting the war effort and informing the good citizens of America of the evils of the Nazi regime.

They hopped over many a puddle that littered the streets, Francis happily whistling an unfamiliar tune as he swung his umbrella around, already wise to the temperamental nature of the city's weather. Arthur was cursing him silently as his own nose steadily turned pink due to the biting wind that blew straight through his smart coat.

He cursed him further as they stopped outside a large dance hall with a particularly gaudy poster of Captain America socking Hitler in the jaw plastered across its front doors. Loud music was floating through the few open windows and mixing with the sounds of the city around them. Francis put his hand on the door and turned to the smaller blond, expression oddly sober for once.

"Arthur, _mon cher_, I know you aren't familiar with events such as this, what with you being stuffy and British-" Arthur felt the beginnings of a headache forming already "-_mais_ this is a place where people come to have fun, especially les girls, _ohnhonhonhonhon_, so try to lighten up and, for God's sake, don't furrow those formidable eyebrows of yours!"

"For the love of-" Before Arthur could verbally abuse the French twat he was already through the doors, leaving him alone in the cold. Tentatively, he followed him into the dance hall and was overwhelmed by the crowd of young people inside. Boys and girls were strewn across the large hall, some chatting happily amongst one another and sipping on drinks, others lingering around the edges observing the people around them, but the majority of the people inside were in the centre of the hall, dancing wildly to the upbeat music that was provided by the orchestra. Arthur felt dizzy as he watched the chaotic flips and swings of girls as they were flung about by their partners in a flurry of skirts and fast footsteps. Kicks and spins followed every movement as the crowd unbelievably managed to avoid crashing into one another in their excitement and zest.

The crowd suddenly slowed down as a circle was formed and low murmurs spread through the bystanders as a young blonde man walked through to the centre of the circle, blushing girl in hand. He winked cockily at his impromptu audience as he began to twirl his partner around in time with the music. Arthur noted, much to his internal displeasure, that the man was just about one of the most attractive men he had ever seen, his rolled up sleeves, bright green suspenders and loose tie only adding to the charm that seemingly oozed out of his very person. A single piece of hair stood stubbornly at attention on his head and his glasses looked like they were about to fall off his face but he sure gave one hell of a performance, spurring on the now cheering crowd with his own daring flips and moves.

The short tune came to an end as the man bowed out of the circle and everyone resumed dancing. Arthur was still slightly dazed as he tried to locate Francis, frowning when he saw him surrounded by at least ten girls swooning at every French phrase he threw their way. Francis glanced upwards and met Arthur's eyes before whispering something to his small crowd of girls and they all glanced his way, giggling madly. Arthur rolled his eyes as he determined that he could not count on Francis for any company that night and weaved his way through the people, heading for the few empty tables towards the back of the establishment.

There he remained for the next hour, sitting at a table all by himself as the youths around him socialised and enjoyed themselves, bitterly regretting agreeing with Francis' plans earlier on. He should have known something like that would have happened; it did every time the two of them went anywhere together. He was startled out of his self-loathing state by a large hand on his shoulder. He turned around, fully ready to rip whoever had dared to touch him to shreds, when he found himself staring into bright blue eyes and an awfully familiar face.

"Hi-de-ho there darlin', couldn't help noticing you sittin' all by your lonesome when I cast an eyeball 'round the room." He glanced downwards at Arthur's waistcoat and jacket combination. "What's a city slicker like yourself doing back here, ain't a dead hoofer are you? Care for a spin with me?"

Arthur was thrown. "You do realise I didn't understand a single word of what you just said?" The man laughed obnoxiously and pulled Arthur off his chair and towards the busy dance floor, ignoring his angry refusals.

He was pulled all the way to the very middle and a large hand was placed as the other grasped his own.

"Ready to swing, darlin'?" Arthur was ready to do many things at this point, "swing," however, was not one of them. He didn't have much a choice, though, as he was pulled in all directions. He had a near heart attack when he was thrust between a strong pair of thighs before being pulled up again and over the man's head. He finally noticed that Arthur wasn't all that into the dance and slowed down.

"You have to move your feet like this, darlin'." Arthur followed his footsteps carefully and was surprised by the blinding smile he received in return. "You've got it!" He sped up again and danced with Arthur until the Brit's lungs felt like they were going to burst as he was swung around and around, letting go and laughing freely.

The band slowed down as the crowds took a short break. The man reluctantly removed his hands from Arthur's body. Still laughing and near breathless from the energetic dancing, Arthur raised an arm to mop his brow and opened his mouth, presumably to comment on what had just happened, before he remembered that the young man who had drawn him into the dance was a stranger; he didn't even know his name. His voice died in his throat and he felt his face heat up - now what? What could he say? What should he do-

"Well, haha, wasn't that wild!" The man exclaimed, interrupting Arthur's inner turmoil. Arthur blinked. "...Uh, well, yes, it wa-"

"Ah, jeeez, how rude am I! I yanked you right outa your seat for a dance and I haven't even introduced myself!" He lunged forward and gripped Arthur's right hand with his and vigorously shook it. "I'm Alfred, Alfred F. Jones. And who are you darlin'?"

Arthur froze, stunned by his forward manner and, now that he wasn't being spun around and could look properly, his blonde hair and shining blue eyes. He was sort of charming, in an over excited puppy-like way.

Then, remembering that his dance partner - Alfred Jones - had asked him his name and was looking eagerly at him, he spluttered, "Err, Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

Alfred dropped his hand and cocked his head to the side.

"Arthur, huh?" He grinned and pushed back his hair from his sweaty forehead. "Well, Arthur, how 'bout I get ya a drink?"

* * *

Arthur smiled nervously as Alfred pulled out a chair for him. He sat, and the thought of how strangely and unexpectedly this night had gone flashed briefly through his mind before Jones sat down beside him, and all thoughts not related to his odd new acquaintance vanished.

Now that Arthur thought about it, Alfred had a remarkably handsome visage, not just the charm that had first caught his attention. The boy had an easy smile that grew bigger still as he spoke, yet it was not only his appearance that drew strangers to him. Jones' unusual-to-encounter friendliness and ability to set others at ease was what had mainly compelled Arthur to go along with whatever the energetic American had planned. After all, he had agreed to the dance. Had no choice but to dance, yes, but had gone along with it all the same.

Arthur sat beside him at the emptied table, taking in the sight of him and consigning every detail to memory. His gaze swept across Alfred's flushed cheeks and wheat-golden hair, dampened by light sweat and in disarray from dancing; his skin appeared golden, too, glowing in the low light flickering from dripping candles and dimmed chandeliers in the otherwise darkened hall. Yet amidst the undoubtedly 'sunshiney' glow of this boy came the bright blue colour of his eyes. As Jones spoke, they lit up in tangent with his excitement.

They also anchored Arthur to his seat, quite literally so as his hands clenched the wooden panelling beneath his hands and his pulse and breathing quickened. Alfred was not just handsome; he was beautiful. In the recesses of his mind, Arthur remembered that it was improper to think of other men as beautiful, but then he brushed off the idea and decided he couldn't give a damn. There could not be a better suited title to give Alfred F. Jones.

Also from deep in his mind came the reminder that Alfred was talking to him, and he had not caught a single word of what he had just said.

"...so, really, Matty is the reason I got into swing. Strange, ya wouldn't think a Canadian would know a damned thing about good music! Ah, yeah, before you ask, my brother's from Canada. It's kinda a long story, I'll tell it to ya sometime. Hey, look at me just talkin' away 'bout myself, Matty says I do that a lot and that I should stop. Hey, d'you have any siblings? Oh, wait, Matt says it's rude to pry..." He drifted off, chewing his lip.

Arthur broke from his stunned silence. "Ah, y-yes, well, it's...it's quite all right to ask. I have some brothers back home, but I'm afraid they're not worth telling about." A nervous chuckle followed and he took a sip of the drink Alfred had bought him.

Alfred smirked and rested his chin in his hand, his elbow propped up on the linen-covered table. "Aw, c'mon darlin', how bad can they be? Maybe you're difficult in their eyes."

Arthur frowned and looked down, sulking. "Well, if you must know, they're complete dick heads."

A sudden snort caused him to look back up, alarmed. Alfred was grinning at him.

"And what do you find so funny?" Arthur snapped at his companion. He folded his arms across his chest and proceeded to look Rather Pissed Off.

"Awww, don't be like that, Artie, I was just surprised to hear you bad mouth your brothers. I kinda got the impression that you were an uptight Brit who wouldn't swear to save his life."

Arthur's cheeks warmed as he indignantly spluttered, "And I had the impression that all Americans were _stupid_...oh, _wait_."

Alfred only laughed in reply, and Arthur scowled at the realisation that the bastard had been merely amused by him. He opened his mouth to add that his name is Arthur, not Artie, only to be interrupted by a very loud French man demanding that they return home.

* * *

The doors swung shut behind them as the pair stepped back out into the frozen air. Arthur pulled his coat tighter around him, shielding himself from the biting cold chill, as Francis set out before him. After a few moments of silence, the French man glanced slyly at his companion and smiled deviously.

"So, _mon cher_, are we going to pretend like I didn't just see you with a gorgeous blonde stranger, one so very eager to take you to bed? And judging by the desperate way you looked at him, you feel the same way?"

Arthur shot the grinning bastard a warning glare over the upturned collar of his coat, but he knew it was a futile effort.

After exchanging addresses and telephone numbers with a rather distressed Alfred who needed reassuring that they would indeed meet again, and all the while willing Francis to stop sniggering behind him, Arthur had nearly run to the exit in an attempt to avoid Francis' prying and teasing. He should have known the slimy frog would never leave him be.

"Aaah, who would have thought it; the lone traveller from over seas, finding love in the most unlikely of places! A cold night, bringing two souls from worlds apart together! Oh, _mon dieu_, I may faint from the excitement!"

Arthur kicked at the French man's ankle, smirking when he yelped in pain. "You can shut your fat mouth, now, Francis; no-one's listening to the rubbish you spew."

Francis pouted back at him. "You are so cruel, Arthur. All I do is take an interest in your life, and you toss me aside."

Arthur snorted, kicked a stone away and sunk his hands into his pockets. The pair rounded the corner by the bakery and continued their journey home, the glow of street lamps illuminating them with their light every so often. Arthur looked back at his near impossible friend. "You know it was nothing like that, you git, we were just having a civilised conversation. You always exaggerate everything."

"Ah hah, but you see, Arthur, don't think that I didn't notice your little dance with him, _honhon_."

Arthur blushed and looked at his feet. "You of all people should know that it's quite normal for men to dance with one another at those... "swing" dance things. It didn't mean anything."

With an indulgent smile, Francis slung an arm around the Brit's shoulders and sighed. "If you say so, Arthur, but I just thought you should know, _normally_, men don't give each other their numbers after."

He smirked and continued, "In fact, I'm sure we'll be seeing your American again _very soon_."

"Sod off."

The French man's laughter echoed through the empty street and reached into the darkness of the night.


End file.
